The Lioness and The Snake
by esbunker16
Summary: It's 7th Year, and Hermione Granger has inevitably been named Head Girl. The question is, did she consider who her Head partner would be before accepting...? Rated M for language, DM/HrG, HP/GnW, RW/LvB
1. Chapter 1 - Hermione Granger

A/N: Hello~ This is Mochi (the author) speaking... This is my first fanfic, and I'm working on it with a friend! Please note, the first 10 or so chapters are already pre-written... Thank you so much for trying this story, and please review if you get a chance... bye~

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Disclaimer: Neither I, or my friend own any part of Harry Potter. The characters all came from the magic of J. K. Rowling.

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Chapter 1 ~ Hermione Granger

I, Hermione Jean Granger, sighed heavily. What would make the Head Girl of Hogwarts, the top ranking student, the ex-Prefect for the red and gold Gryffindor, so dismal, you ask?

Well, one possible situation was that a book I want is too far up the bookshelves, the stepping-blocks-that-are-claimed-to-be-plentiful-but-there's-none-in-sight are not in sight, and no one is allowed to use magic in the library because Madame Pince, the librarian, is such a îç! Not even me, the bloody so-called Golden Goody-Two-Shoes herself. Oh goodness, now how could this be? This is the same exact situation as present! Yes, sarcasm was present there.

I struggled to reach said book, "Circe, the Witch", tiptoeing and stretching my slim 5 foot 3 self. Yes, I'm quite short, I know. Well, good things come in small packages, or so they say. My patience was at its wit's end, and I growled to myself in frustration as the very tips of my nails nudged the bottom of the book, only causing it to break away from my touch, barely escaping my grasp.

Merlin's nighty-night star-patterned boxers! Whatever. I'll just use a tiny, completely harmless little Accio. I returned to my reserved table, brought out my infamously bottomless red satchel with gold trim, dug through it, then brandished my wand. Silently, I walked over to the shelf, and tapped the tip of my wand to the book and was just about to mutter an incantation when I froze.

A large, cool hand encircled my petite waist, the other one grabbing "Circe, the Witch" easily, with a certain, ahem, snakelike suaveness.

"So," smirks a familiar voice, breath tickling the back of my neck, making me shiver, "The famous Hogwarts Little Miss Perfect was about to break a rule of the only sanctuary not between her legs: the library. How utterly surprising." His drawling, severely honeycombed voice sparked an epiphany. I whirled in the person's grasp and groaned, wishing it wasn't, but it was!

Draco freaking Malfoy, 7th year, 6 feet of sexy, pure blood psychomaniac, Snape's godson, and a Malfoy! What's worse, a Malfoy! Whoops, was that twice! His sleek platinum blonde hair is ruffled effortlessly, proving him further the Slytherin Sex God, and the seemingly unmatched contender as the title of Hogwarts Dreamboat. His black robes are made of silk and are clean and immaculate – worthy of a pureblood. The hypnotic silver eyes he possesses are incredibly mesmerizing, and put any girl (and perhaps even a few boys) under its hold. Except for me, of course. I don't care for his little flirtings.

Attempting to prove my point, I quickly regained composure and scowled. "What do you want, you slimy prick!" I spat in repulsion. Quietly, of course. If I yelled, I'd be banned from here by Madame Pince, and that would be disasterous. "Don't touch me!" I roughly pushed Draco's hands off of mine. Draco merely smiled lazily.

"I was simply curious, since it seems that you've finally emerged from your weasel-infested den," he mocked. "You mightn't want to piss me off, Mudblood. I could go tell Madame Pince that my very favorite library bookworm, the famous Hermione "I Like Weasels" Granger was about about to break a rule," he announced smugly, as was his nature to do so. He set his hands next to me on the bookshelves, and leaned in even closer, bending to my face level. His lips were an inch away from mine. His arms gently encased me, and I blushed furiously in spite of myself. Although I wouldn't outright admit it to him or anyone else walking the earth, I was a bit intimidated by the ferret. He could overpower me anytime with a simple Expelliarmus, and it would be over for me.

My heart pounded. I gasped, "You wouldn't dare tell! And don't call Ron and his very lovely family weasels!" I wrenched away and gathered my belongings and proceeded to leave when Draco called out, "Hey, Mudblood! Your book!" from halfway across the library, to which Madame Pince promptly shushed him with a rapid-fire Silencio. I felt my cheeks burn with humiliation and outrage as my classmates turned to stare at me, confused and bewildered by the outburst.

I soon realized that the reason Draco hadn't given the book to my right away was because he had kept it and made a copy of the book with magic that somehow went undetected by Madame Pince's magic-detector. The pages were blank, but inside was a note scrawled quickly in an elegant calligraphy:

Mudblood-

Want your book? Meet me in the DADA room. 7p, sharp. Be there.

-Draco Abraxas Malfoy

I screamed in frustration, causing my roommate, Ginny Weasley, to rush into my side of the room, yelling, "What's wrong? What's wrong?!"

"That son of a… git!" I bit my lip to keep myself from using the entire trifecta of inappropriate muggle curses. My lip bled crimson, dying my bottom lip from a peaceful salmon pink to a vengeful, tempestuous scarlet. I clenched my fists and vow that I'd get the little (tall?) prick, and when I did, he'd regret ever being created.


	2. Chapter 2 - Draco Malfoy

Chapter 2 - Draco Malfoy

I sauntered down the halls during the evening. I needed someone to rattle, since Granger obviously was immune to my ways. She was so fun to tease. Plus, she wasn't playing hard to get, she was impossible to get! So fun! What a challenge! Some shrimpy fourth years were scuttling around, trying to get to their classes. Aww, poor little things, I thought to myself.

A voluptuous fourth year ran into me, I supposed, on purpose. As expected, she tripped, books strewn everywhere, quills astray, and spare ink bottles decimated. I looked down at her.

"Why, I'm so utterly sorry! I must have tripped on you by accident." The girl smiled bashfully, obviously embarrassed to be so close to the famed Slytherin Sex God. These Hufflepuffs. Damn, they're so innocent and naïve. How, I ask, with people like me walking the halls? But they should know their place. To me, they are just bed-warmers before the real fun begins…

"Get on, now, I'm busy," I grimaced. My robe had a bit of dust coating it, so I brushed it off.

I finished my classes (with a copious amount of mischief/Potter-bashing and the wooing of younger girls, of course) and headed up to the DADA room, blatantly assuming that the Gryffindor Princess would be there. If I said something, it became so. That was my logic, and therefore, I was a tad thrown off by a little note left on one of the desks in Granger's neat, nearly swan-like script.

Ferret-

There's no bloody way in heaven (or hell for that matter) that I will be breaking rules by meeting you here, but furthermore, being someone so commonly utilized together, no less, when someone else could perhaps see us and get the rumour mill going. Merlin, no. Room of Requirement, 7:05. I won't abide lateness, and I expect my book to accompany your stay.

-Hermione Jean Granger

I snorted. This was SO like the Mudblood, utterly adamant about not breaking any rules. Goody-two-shoes.

Bloody hell, I thought. I looked at the clock, seeing 7:03 clearly. I'm going to be late! I dashed over to the Room of Requirement. I sighed. All this would be evaded if only, as Head Girl and Boy, they would customarily share the Head Dorms! They had a connected bathroom! But then, that Mudblood just HAD to complain to that old geezer Dumbledore and the crone McGonagall that "tradition does not override the privacy of a lady" or something like that. Now I was still bloody stuck with Blaise Zabini snoring monstrously like a tractor or deranged banshee through the night. My mind began to drift astray, and one thought in particular seems to be occupying a large space in his mind.

Damn sexy Mudblood… Salazar, save me … that ass… them legs… her unruly mop of brownish golden hair had straightened out over the years, now flowing in waterfall-like cascades down her back. Her figure had filled out in just the right places, an hourglass visible to everyone who looked when she was not wearing her stinking Gryffindork cloak. And those big brown eyes, rimmed with long, shimmering, black eyelashes…

I hit the side of my head hotly, ruffling my slicked back hair. Then, I smoothed it out again, trying to calm myself with the quick motion. What was I, the heir of the great Malfoys, thinking? I looked down at my Dark Mark. I was glad that You-Know-Who doesn't take any care to students at Hogwarts besides Harry Potter currently. If he'd set his eye on Mudbloods… Hermione would definitely be the first to be attacked. She was a friend of Potter, and was the best of the worst, the smartest of the Mudbloods.

When I finally found the Room of Requirement, an unfamiliar mahogany door was seen, and a small peephole could be identified. A mocha brown orb comes into view from the other side, verifying who I was. She quickly flung open the door and ushered me in, muttering "Right on time."

Of course, slightly (massively) unwillingly, and not completely of her own volition, but no matter. She still did it. One step closer…

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(authors humming "A Thousand Years" in the background...) We sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please note, the first 10 or so chapters of this story are indeed prewritten, but when we get beyond then, please feel free to send us suggestions and questions...


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thank you so much, dear readers! My friend/co-authoress and I are both ecstatic with the amount of people who have begun this story, and given it time. That only gives us more energy to write!

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Disclaimer: Neither of us own any part of Harry Potter. That is J.K. Rowling's wondrous work.

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Chapter 3

He closed the door of the room. "Mind if I Slytherin?" he smirked. Your bed, he added as an afterthought. In his head, of course. If she heard him, he'd be dead. No, let me rephrase this properly. He'd be without his crown jewels (ahem, cough, cough) and the future of any children. Yes, that seems about realistic and appropriate for an act of revenge by Hermione Granger.

"You!" she snapped at him.

"Me! Wow. I know, I'm fabulous." he replied devilishly.

"Give me my book!" She reached for "Circe, the Witch," but as it was in Draco's hand (and he was so very much taller), he merely lifted it out of her (comparatively limited) reach.

"Mudblood, there are a couple ways besides that to get this book that you absolutely need for Herbology." He smirked as he saw Hermione' face contort in surprise, like How'd you know that? He continued, "Let's use the Head rooms."

Hermione stepped back, puzzled. "Why?" Her eyes narrowed. "I do hope it's not for the purposes of your perverted whims. If so, I'm not interested."

Draco groaned. "No, no. Why would I even want to touch you, Mudblood? The head dorms are the most luxurious suites in Hogwarts, almost as good as my room back in Malfoy Manor. Blaise snores, stinks, and is simply plain gross, if not for his looks, but don't fall for him. I can't use them unless the Head Girl is there, too. Also, I need you for homework purposes."

"Yeah, I'm suspicious of your 'homework purposes'. It'd better not be for the study of the female body. Also, I refuse to be caught in your company," Hermione hissed, highly agitated by this whole affair. "I'm only meeting with you for my book, so hand it over, prat!" She extended her hand for the book, but only receives a sarcastic smirk in reply.

"Do you think I'm going to give it to you this easily? Especially since this copy of "Circe, the Witch" is the only one in Hogwarts? Tsk tsk," he chastised her, mockingly. "It seems the Gryffindor Princess has lost some brain cells, perhaps?" Hermione seethed furiously, clenching her fists tightly and breaking the skin of her palm. "I happen to only want one thing from you, and it's rather simple, if you don't value certain bits of your reputation."

Damn playboy git, she thought. He can make the most normal conversation sound absolutely filled with lecherous innuendos. I can't take this any longer; even his presence is poisoning to my intelligence. Hermione looked as though she could spontaneously combust at any moment, and was about to reply with a few (or hundreds) of her own digs at him, before he silenced her with a finger laid gently on her lips.

"Now, now, Granger. Let me present my offer before you interrupt so rudely, yes?" Hermione's face of pure indignation and fury was quite terrifying, really, and made him swallow a bit nervously, Adam's apple bobbing, trying to rechannel the calm, composed, intimidating Lucius Malfoy within. She ripped his finger off her lips with a look of loathing and disdain on her face.

"Listen here, prick. Whatever your depraved deal is, forget it. I'm leaving, and taking my book with me," she said, quickly snatching "Circe, the Witch" from his hands during his moment of vulnerability, aka, while he was gazing longingly at her plump lips.

Hermione pranced out of the room, and looked back at him with a smirk, book in hand, joyous in her victory over the ferret. Yes! Suck it, Malfoy! I can steal a book even if you are taller.

Draco was beyond pissed at that point. The one opportunity he got to try and get close to Hermione, he got outsmarted by her "womanly wiles". Bloody fabulous. A small wink of an idea was beginning to develop and take root in his mind, though, so perhaps he wasn't completely defeated yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Hermione Granger

I quickly found my dorm, unlocked it with the password of "Sugar quills", and was extraordinarily startled to see Draco Malfoy leaning casually against the wall of my room. He nonchalantly turned his head towards me, as if just noticing my presence. He grinned roguishly.

"Now, now, hon. Hope you didn't think you were getting away with that so easily," he said condescendingly. I simply gaped open mouthed at the figure before me, astonished at how he was able to enter.

"How in Godric's name did you get into my quarters? This is Ginny's and my room…" I inquired, shaking my head in disbelief and confusion.

"Anyone can get anything for the right price, love. Your roommate seems to be especially invested in our relationship," he said as he beamed mischievously at me. "Now, back to the matter I came for. Before you ever-so-rudely interrupted me, I was about to present a mutually beneficial offer."

I was about to tell him to bugger off already, since I was getting rather tired of his antics, when he went, "Nuh-uh-uh! Listen for a minute, Gryffindork." I frown. "As I was saying," he glares at me for effect, "I was about to say that we should get together."

Silence.

"Like, as in, erm, y'know, dating."

Silence.

"..."

This was getting positively (or negatively) ridiculous. "Bloody hell, Malfoy! How many times were you dropped on your head as an infant?! You've lost your damn mind, if you've ever even had one in the first place! Something utterly gargantuan must be in it for you!" I remarked indignantly.

Draco curled his lip. "If it offers any consolation to you," he smiled pityingly, "I know that you are positively dying to get revenge on the Weasel for cheating on you and practically sucking the face off of that vile Lavender girl. In front of you. In the middle of the Great Hall," he acted triumphant, proud of himself for creating a logical explanation. Ugh. "Think of what he would say and how consumed by jealousy he would be if one of his best friends/ex got together with his worst enemy… you'd have him back in an instant. Moreover, all this gossip and attention on him and his parasitic squid slave will be directed towards us instead: Gryffindor Princess, best friend of the Chosen One and the Slytherin Prince."

I snorted at the "parasitic squid slave" comment, since it was ever so fitting, and then scowled in light of his previous statement. "That would be quite the look on his face, I must say, but I don't want him back," I muttered through clenched teeth. "He's a lying, cheating prick and a bastard. Lavender can suck his face off for all I care, the only person who would miss him is Harry, and perhaps some members of his family. And that's a big maybe, too."

"If it makes you feel any better, I was dumped by Daphne Greengrass for Theodore Nott. I get it. So here's what's in it for both of us: you can make Weasel jealous and show him up, I might be able to get Daphne back. Deal or no deal?"

I thought for a long moment, perplexed by this opportunity in front of me. I huffed out a sort of a reply. "Fine, ferret. But let me be clear: this doesn't mean I have any sort of positive feelings towards you. This deal? It's only because I. Can't. Stand. Ron. After we both get what we came for, any association between us is over. Got it?"

Draco grinned sheepishly. I may not be able to keep that "no association after" promise. "Got it, Granger. See you at lunch tomorrow."

And so our plan began.


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